


the hidden meaning of simple things

by cordsycords



Series: L.A. By Night Fluff Fest 2020 [2]
Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Gift Giving, L.A. By Night Fluff Fest 2020, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordsycords/pseuds/cordsycords
Summary: Eva has been telling him that she loves him for months, it just took a while for him to hear it.Written for the L.A. By Night Fluff Fest 2020 prompt: Gift Giving/Receiving
Relationships: Eva/Jasper Heartwood (L.A. By Night)
Series: L.A. By Night Fluff Fest 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720987
Comments: 13
Kudos: 15





	the hidden meaning of simple things

In the back of his mind, Jasper could hear the irritating ringing of the bell that hung over the door of Elle & Belle’s Tattoo Parlour loudly announcing the entrance of a new patron. Having worked there for five years, he was quite used to hearing the bell’s chime and therefore was also quite used to ignoring it. Continuing to work on a design for a client, he pushed the sound of Annabelle enthusiastically greeting whomever it was, her voice echoing to the back of the shop where he was working. Again, he was quite used to ignoring her.

Continuing to focus on his work, he missed the conversation that went on in the front of the shop, the quiet laughter, a woman’s voice, followed by fast steps down the hallway into the back room, turned to a slow sneaking gait as she tiptoed behind him, surprising him with her arm around his shoulders and a hastily placed kiss on his cheek.

He jolted as Eva laughed, jumping a bit in his chair before he turned to look up at her, a smug smile on her face. It was the height of the L.A. summer, and she had taken to wearing flowing sundresses and large floppy hats that protected her face. In one arm she held a wrapped bouquet of flowers.

“H-Hi,” he stammered out, heart still pounding after she had scared him.

“Hey,” she replied, still smiling, “Can I?” She asked, gesturing to the flowers she held.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yes, please. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

She went over to the table that they would all eat lunch around, on top of which stood an elegant, glass vase, filled with a bouquet of partially dried flowers. She had gifted the vase to the tattoo parlour when she had moved her flower shop into the empty storefront across the street almost a year ago and had come to refill the vase with fresh flowers every other week since then.

She liked the hum as she worked, spreading out the flowers on the table, snipping each one to length before she arranged it artfully in the vase. He feigned concentration, keeping his gaze on his work spread out in front of him rather than turn around to look at her, but all his focus was on her. He listened to each shift and sigh and off-tune note, utterly entranced to the point where his pencil stopped right in the middle of the page he was drawing on, burrowing a small hole into the pages of the sketchbook beneath it from how hard he was pressing down on it.

“Did the daffodils dry out?” she asked.

His pencil snapped.

_Daffodils. Regard. Unequalled Love._

“Uh, yeah. I… threw them out,” he said, mentally swearing to himself as he grabbed another pencil to try and hide his panic.

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Mm-hm.”

He was similarly distracted by her for the next fifteen minutes, until she threw the excess stems and paper into the trash and came over to stand by his side, putting her hands at his shoulders as she looked at his work.

“New client?”

“Mmh,” he mumbled as he leaned back so she could get a better look at the tattoo design: the all-seeing eye placed in front of a large sunburst.

“It’s lovely,” she turned the sketchbook toward her, reaching out a finger to gently trace the hard lines of the pyramid. She leaned down in front of him, her hair curling forward to conceal her face, “Where’s it going?”

“Right… _here_ ,” he said as he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, trailing his hand down the back of her neck to rest at the top of her spine, pushing her down toward him to kiss her. He could feel her smile against his lips, the wayward curls of her hair tickling his cheek.

She pulled back, “I should let you get back to work.”

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to.”

“Hmm, I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll be the one in the tie.”

She chuckled, “And I’ll be the one in the dress.”

She pressed one last kiss against his lips and left. He waited until the bell at the entrance rang before turning around to look at the vase, mentally reciting the names of those he recognized.

_Morning glory. Fern. Blue salvia. White Clover. Red chrysanthemums._

_Affection. Sincerity. I think of you. Think of me too._

_I love you._

With no appointments for the rest of the day, the parlour closed at six. He worked on various designs for clients, and got up right at six, waving to Annabelle and Ellenore as he went out the door. He didn’t have a long way to walk to go home, as he rented the apartment just above the parlour. Opening the door, he took each stair two at a time, in a rush to get ready for the night ahead.

It was their sixth month anniversary, and he was making dinner. 

He took a pot out of a cupboard, filling it with water and putting it to heat on the stove of the apartment’s kitchenette. He then rushed to his wardrobe next to his bed, taking out a box of battery-powered tea lights and began placing them in various places around the bachelor apartment, making an attempt at a romantic atmosphere despite his worn-down living space.

It didn’t matter what his apartment looked like, he knew she would love it anyways. But it still felt prudent to try.

As the pasta boiled, he cooked the meatballs and tomato sauce he had made the night before, and then put everything in the oven to stay warm while he took a quick shower. The doorbell rang just as he was finishing the knot of his tie, sending the nervous beat of his heart into overdrive. Even six months in, he was still struck with anxiety at the thought of a pretty girl.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep, calming breath before he opened the door. She stood out in the early evening, her hair done in two braids wearing a lace, peach-coloured dress.

“Hi,” he greeted.

She smiled, “Hey there, handsome.”

“Oh, uh,” he looked down at himself, “This-- this is nothing.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes. Yeah, come on-- come in.”

He moved aside for her, letting her in before he closed the door behind them, locking it and following her up the stairs.

“Looks like Alistair is doing well,” she said, going over to the small kitchen table and grabbing the leaves of the aloe plant.

_Aloe. Affection. Also grief. Hopefully the former rather than the latter._

“Well, he’s not picky.”

“Just prickly.”

“Hmm,” he agreed, smiling as he spooned out pasta, sauce, and meatballs into bowls. He placed them on the table, followed by a couple of wine glasses. The wine was cheap. He had to force his hands to stop shaking as he poured it.

“Well, it’s not much but--” he said, screwing the top of the bottle back on.

“It’s lovely, Jasper.”

He nodded and sat down across from her.

Sweat dried on their skin as her fingers tiptoed through a labyrinth of linework across his abdomen, muscles twitching in her wake. His eyes were closed, his breathing calm, trying to keep himself as still as possible. 

She had tattoos as well, crossing down her shoulders and down her arm, leaves and petals and vines of strength and rebirth, grace and good fortune. A dozen different messages hidden in plain sight, imprinted on her skin.

_Right._

“I have something for you,” he murmured as she traced the blade of a dagger up to his heart.

“Oh,” she said, her hand stopping as she looked up at him, surprise written across her face, “I-- I didn’t--”

“No, no, that’s fine. This isn’t-- I’ve had it for a while. I’ve been waiting-- I want to give it to you now. It’s not… because of anything. It’s just-- I have something for you.”

“Okay?” She said, partially confused.

He delicately extracted himself from her presence, pulling on his boxers before walking over to one of the several bookshelves that lined the walls of his apartment. She sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard, a sheet wrapped around her body. He reached up to the top shelf, one she wouldn’t be able to access without help, pulling off a row of books to grab something that was hidden behind them: a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.

He handed it over to her on the bed, sitting at the edge and watching her as she unwrapped it. She pried the twine off first, carefully unsticking the tape of the wrapping so as not to rip it open. Once she was done with it, she slid the book out of the packaging, turning it around in her hands to look at the cover.

“The hidden meaning of simple things,” she whispered, repeating the title that was embossed into the red leather of the book. With her thumb, she opened the book to somewhere in the middle, letting the pages fall, revealing their contents to her with each one that passed.

She gasped as months of flowers dried and pressed, swept past her eyes, along with others that she had never gifted to him. He included as much as he could, from Abatinnia (fickleness) to Zinnia (thoughts of absent friends), supplementing flowers that he had no physical access to with his own drawings.

“So that’s where the daffodils went,” she said, stopping at their page, “And the tulips, and the sweet pea…”

“And the Edelweiss, and the Gardenia,” he continued.

_Courage and devotion. Secret love._

“You kept the Gardenia?” she asked, flipping to the correct page.

“Well, it’s not the same one. I-- I didn’t really get it? Then? It took me a while to realize-- to _hear_ what you were saying.”

“Yeah?” she asked, her eyes still stuck on the book in her lap.

“Yeah,” he reached out to take her hand, “But I get it now.”

“And what have I been saying?”

His other hand reached out to her cheek, turning her to face him. A single tear fell from her eye, quickly wiped away by his thumb.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the au where everything is Happy and Soft.
> 
> I've had this au idea stuck in my head for OVER A YEAR. And now it's been set free. Fly free, jeva tattoo parlour/flower shop AU, fly free.


End file.
